


Unsteady

by rosesandthorons



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Not Beta Read, Soft Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Sylvix Week 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-14 15:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21017696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosesandthorons/pseuds/rosesandthorons
Summary: Even in his dreams, Sylvain can't escape the curse that is Miklan.Felix can't stand to watch him suffer anymore.





	Unsteady

**Author's Note:**

> @natendo_art inspired me with [this post](https://twitter.com/natendo_art/status/1181897611965603840?s=20) to contribute to the soft felix movement
> 
> prompt 2 for sylvix week: dreams

It has been exactly three weeks and two days since Sylvain witnessed his brother’s gruesome death. 

Exactly three weeks and two days since he was last able to sleep without being haunted by it.

In his dreams he is chased by the putrid creature, the Gautier crest stone on its forehead mocking him as he stumbles through cobblestone alleyways.

But Sylvain is okay. He has to be. His act of nonchalance is convincing enough that even Ingrid has stopped lingering after class to ask him how he is doing. If he just acts like everything is okay, he will finally be able to move on from Miklan, the brother he shouldn’t even be mourning. He will be able to forget how pathetic he is for having felt a futile hope at reconciling with his brother.

As he sits at his desk and stares at the letter that his father just sent, he wonders why the world has decided to be so cruel to him.

_  
Sylvain,_

_I am writing to summon you to do your duty as the bearer of the Crest of Gautier._

_Since I am occupied with matters regarding the Sreng, it falls upon you to protect our land._

_I have received word that a band of thieves have been terrorizing a village. You are to dispose of them on your own to prove your strength and worth as a Gautier. You will be rewarded kindly based on how many thieves you manage to drive off._

_May the Goddess protect you._

_Signed,_

_Margrave Gautier  
_

By himself, huh? Sylvain takes the letter and neatly tucks it inside one of his books, hiding its existence from the world.

Sylvain decides to go to his professor for help not because he doesn’t think he can handle it, but as an act of defiance towards his father. 

* * *

In Gautier territory, Sylvain and the rest of the Blue Lions face the mess that the thieves have made of a small village. Byleth and Sylvain are huddled together, discussing their strategy for reclaiming the village.

“We should take the strongholds and cut off their escape route,” Sylvain finishes as he and Byleth assess the state of the ravaged town. Byleth nods in understanding and assumes their position at the front of the group of students, hand on the hilt of their sword. They then begin delivering orders to their students, sending them into the fray to thwart the thieves’ escape. 

Sylvain grips his lance tightly as he approaches the stronghold belonging to who appears to be the leader of the band of thieves. He is alone; the rest of the Blue Lions are spread out at the other strongholds.

The gruff man’s eyes light up with recognition when he spots Sylvain. “Hey, I know that face. You’re the boss’s little bro, right?” 

Sylvain squares his shoulders. “I'm sorry to say it, but yeah, I'm his brother. And he's led you into a bad spot. Anyway, your boss is dead. So this is your chance to disband this little thief gang of yours.”

The thief lets out a hearty laugh. “That’s gold. You really think we’re gonna listen to a little brat like you?” He holds eye contact with Sylvain, his expression cold. Then, he lunges forward, blade in hand.

Sylvain, prepared for the attack, dodges quickly.

“You think I had any other choice than to be a thief? Your kind deserves to rot for the suffering you have put us through.”

Metal clashes against metal.

“Well, it’s probably on me for making such a stupid request.”

As they parry each other’s attacks, the thief continues to jeer. “Boss told us all about you...about who you _really_ are. We’ll take extra care to put you in your place.”

More gruff men appear seemingly from nowhere, leering icily at Sylvain. With his unmistakable red hair, they all recognized him as the other Gautier. They circle around him, echoing the insults that he had heard his whole life from Miklan.

“Spoiled brat.”

“Shallow.”

“Ungrateful.”

“Desperate.”

“Good-for-nothing.”

"Weak."

Their taunts become more scathing in an attempt to provoke Sylvain to make the first move. They know that they have him outmatched. They’re just toying with him, prolonging his death.

Sylvain clenches his jaw as he tries to block out what these low-lifes are saying. He should have known that they would fight dirty. He needs to get out of this situation, and fast.

With a flick of his wrist, Sylvain uses his lance to disarm the thief closest to him. Before he could strike, another thief strikes him from behind with wind magic. The disarmed thief now sees his chance to attack, punching Sylvain forcefully in the nose while he is stunned by the spell.

A trail of warm blood trickles from his nose and down his chin. Shocked by the harsh impact to his head, Sylvain struggles to refocus his eyesight. He feels like prey being surrounded by a pack of wolves.

“Guess I got too cocky,” he mumbles to himself as he tries with increasing desperation to search for an opening to escape from.

Suddenly a fierce cry rings through the air, startling both Sylvain and the thieves surrounding him.

A metallic swish. A crack of thunder. 

Bodies start to fall to the ground around him. 

When the last thief falls, the atmosphere is still crackling from the remnants of Felix’s thunder spells.

“Good riddance.” Felix's amber eyes assess Sylvain as he shakes the blood from his blade. There are a million things that he would love to say to his friend right now about _how stupid_ he was for taking these thugs on alone, but after witnessing what had just happened, he decides that he will save his tirade for another day. 

Sylvain blinks dumbly at Felix, willing his brain to catch up with what had just happened. He tucks away the emotions raging in his mind and offers Felix his signature dazzling smile. 

"Thanks, Felix. You really saved me there."

Lips pressed into a tight line, Felix sheathes his weapon and rummages in his pocket. He procures a vulnerary and shoves it into Sylvain's hand. 

"Drink it." There is no refusing Felix when he speaks with that tone.

Sylvain opens the bottle and takes a swig of the bitter concoction. After a few moments, he feels the pressure in his head begin to fade. He caps the bottle and hands it back to Felix. 

"I really owe you one." Even he can tell that his saccharine tone sounds forced.

“The professor and the boar have taken out most of the other thieves. There are just a few stragglers left.”

Felix nods his head towards the sound of disgruntled men yelling defiantly nearby. 

“Let’s take them out together. Can’t let you have all the glory in this fight.” Sylvain winks at Felix and makes his way towards the remaining enemies.

The Blue Lions reconvene in the middle of the village when the rest of the thieves have been taken out.

Sylvain stretches his arms behind his head and addresses the group. “Thieves everywhere... I can't believe this is what the world is coming to. At least we've restored the peace here, even if it's only just for a little while."

Byleth nods and commends the group for a job well-done. Before Felix or anyone else could speak to him, Sylvain excuses himself from the group. He tells Byleth and the others to begin the journey back to the monastery without him, because he needs to report to his father. 

As Felix watches Sylvain ride off to the Gautier Manor, he recalls the terrible things that those thieves said to his friend. He feels disgusted at Margrave Gautier for subjecting Sylvain to this torture in the name of chivalry and honor.

He hopes that Sylvain is okay.  


* * *

It's pulsing.

His _trophy_ leans against his desk in his dorm room. The crest stone glows eerily in the darkness.

Sylvain arrived back at the monastery a few hours after curfew. He is now lying down on his bed, staring at the Lance of Ruin. Cool night air whistles through his window, causing him to shiver. 

Sylvain rolls over and pulls his blanket over his head. He wonders if the beast will speak to him in his dreams tonight.

He closes his eyes.

* * *

Sylvain didn't show up to class today. 

Or any other day this week.

The monastery has been too quiet without Sylvain Jose Gautier's usual antics--even for Felix.

With each passing moment that he doesn't see his friend's goofy grin, Felix grows more angry at Miklan and those other low-life thieves. 

He takes out his anger on the training dummies.

Felix thought that Sylvain just needed a little space. That he would be back to his usual cheerful self after taking a day or two to rest.

Dimitri tried knocking on Sylvain's door a few times already, only to get half-hearted excuses for his absence. Ever the responsible friend, he leaves a copy of the day's class notes in front of Sylvain’s door, which are now collecting in an ever-growing pile. 

Felix desperately wants to reach out to Sylvain, but he just doesn't know how to. Sylvain has always been the one to offer comfort and support growing up. He just always knew what to say to make Felix feel better. He isn't good with his words, but Sylvain is. Sylvain always knows what to say and what to do to make him feel safe.

As he watches the stuffing from the training dummy fall to the ground, he realizes that he knows someone who can help him help Sylvain.

Once he washes the grime from the training grounds off of him, Felix finds Mercedes.

"Felix! I am so happy that you've come to see me." She smiles sweetly at the disgruntled swordsman. "You want to know how you can help Sylvain, don't you?"

"I- Yes."

* * *

Felix returns to the dorms just after sunset, Mercedes' cryptic advice still ringing in his head.  
If it were literally anyone else that he was talking to, he would've decked them.

_"It’s impossible to comfort someone if you’re also closed off. You need to let down your walls, Felix. Once you do that, you will know what to do." _

Before they parted, Mercedes had given him a pouch filled with baked goods for Sylvain, which he grips tightly in his hand. He walks to Sylvain's door with purpose and raps his knuckles on the wooden door. 

He could hear the rustling of his bedsheets. Then nothing.

Felix sucks in a deep breath and knocks again. "Sylvain. It's me," he says into the door. "I know you're there."

* * *

The nightmares have gotten worse. Somehow though, he always manages to wake up just before the beast clamps its jaws down on him.

Even in the waking world, Sylvain sees it--him-- lurking in the shadows. He knows it is just his guilty conscience projecting into the real world, but it still doesn’t fail to freak him the fuck out.

He knows he’s really falling apart now, but it was a long time coming. 

His Highness keeps knocking at his door, asking how he is doing.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” he would say lamely. He doesn’t really have the energy to keep up his happy-go-lucky persona, so it’s better that he just...not go to class. And sneak out at night to get food in the dining hall right before it closes. 

When Byleth comes by after the third day of not coming to class, Sylvain shoves the Lance of Ruin into their hands, hoping that maybe he will finally be able to sleep more soundly without it glaring at him through the night.

He just needs some more time to piece himself back together.

He hears someone at his door again, but it is more gentle than Dimitri’s powerful knocks.

_ Felix. _

Sylvain sits up on his bed, contemplating whether or not he should say anything. He tries to comb his hands through his unkempt hair in an attempt to make himself look a little less of a hot mess. 

Talking to Dimitri, Ingrid, or even Byleth right now proves too tiring for him. But Felix, he could always make an exception for. 

“Sylvain, please. Let me in.”

He gets up. His hand hovers uncertainly over the doorknob.

A click, a turn. 

Felix picked the lock.

He barges in, slamming himself unceremoniously into the unsuspecting Sylvain. They land in a heap of limbs on the floor.

“Shit Felix,” Sylvain hisses as he tries to sit up, rubbing the back of his head.

Felix scrambles off of whatever part of Sylvain that he landed on. “You weren’t supposed to be right in front of the door like that!”

“And _you_ weren’t supposed to pick my lock.” He narrows his eyes at Felix, wondering how he actually learned how to do that. They are now both sitting upright on the floor, facing each other.

“Well, you left me no other choice.” Felix looks at Sylvain, an uncharacteristic softness in his eyes. He speaks again, but in a more quiet and vulnerable tone. “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m honored that you’d come check on me. But I’m fine,” he lies. 

Felix sighs. “We both know that isn’t true.”

Sylvain remains silent and stares at the loose button on Felix’s vest.

Mercedes better be right. Felix tries to calm himself so he could speak his mind, hoping it will coax Sylvain into opening up as well.

“Look, when- when we were facing those thieves the other day, I was scared. I was scared and angry. I saw those thieves circling you like vultures and I really thought I was going to lose you. I thought I was too late. I would never be able to live with myself knowing that if I were just a few moments earlier, I could’ve saved you. I...didn’t want to see our promise broken.”  
Felix’s voice trembles as he finishes his sentence. Sylvain clenches his fists as he recalls those moments, but still refuses to make eye contact with Felix.

“Hearing what those scum were saying to you, that made me furious.” 

He grabs Sylvain’s hands and holds them in his lap. Felix’s calloused hands are warm and fit perfectly into his own, Sylvain idly notes. “Sylvain, you can’t believe them. What they said-- what your brother has said to you-- none of that is true.”

Ugly tears begin to fall from Sylvain’s eyes. He squeezes Felix’s hands and whispers, “It’s pathetic. I was looking so desperately to be accepted by him. I always wonder...what if it was the other way around? Would my family think I was worth forgetting if I didn’t have the Crest? Would I end up just like Miklan?”

Felix can see the hurt in Sylvain’s eyes, the helplessness. His once-bright honey-brown eyes are dulled by the dark circles beneath them, telling of the sleepless nights he suffered through. 

“Miklan was a selfish bastard. You...you are one of the most selfless people I know. Crest or not, Miklan would be who he is and you would be who you are. You can’t keep dwelling on these what-ifs.”

Felix releases Sylvain’s hands and gently swipes his thumbs over Sylvain’s cheeks, wiping away the tears that are falling. Finally, Sylvain holds eye contact with him, his expression brightening by a fraction as he processes what Felix says.

Felix wants to protect Sylvain more than anything else in this world. He feels a powerful tenderness bloom in his chest, causing him to reach out to Sylvain and embrace him in an emotional hug. It is awkward; their limbs don’t quite fit in the right places on the hard stone floor, but it is just what Sylvain needs.

“You can let him go, Sylvain.”

Sylvain trembles in Felix’s embrace, feeling more tears fall. 

“I’m here. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

They sit like this for a while, Felix rubbing comforting circles in Sylvain’s back as he sobbed quietly.  
“Thank you, Fe.” Sylvain says hoarsely when he finally calms down. He feels better now that he was able to cry, to bare his repressed emotions and acknowledge them. It feels even better to be held in Felix’s arms like this. But his body is starting to ache from being on the ground for so long, and he supposes Felix must not feel much more comfortable.

“Let’s get up.”

Felix hums in agreement and slowly removes himself from Sylvain. He crouches in front of Sylvain and stares at him with a determined glint in his eye. Sylvain, stares back, puffy-eyed and confused. Before he could say anything, Felix leans forward and places a soft kiss on Sylvain’s forehead. Then, he stands up, trying to hide the growing flush on his face as he offers Sylvain his hand.

When Sylvain returns to reality and takes Felix's hand, he realizes that there is something sticky and soft under his butt. With a groan, he finally stands up and sees that he was sitting on a paper bag. 

“When did that get there?” He asks, perplexed.

“That was from Mercedes.” Felix splutters. “I completely forgot about it.”

“Too bad it didn’t break our fall all that well,” Sylvain muses as he picks up the limp bag. It was tragic, really, that Mercedes’ baked goods have suffered such a fate.

He throws the squished pastries into the trash and looks sheepishly at Felix. 

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“Will you sleep in here with me tonight? Y’know, like old times?”

"Yeah. But you better not take all of the covers."

* * *

It has been five weeks and six days since Miklan’s death, and Sylvain is finally at peace. When he closes his eyes, he dreams of a future where people are treated as equals. He dreams of the sacred promise between him and his closest friend, and of the comfort of Felix's warm embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!
> 
> come talk to me about sylvix on twitter! @rosesandthorons


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